The House Husband

Wednesday. Lunch date with my wife. Time and place, the usual. I waited. And waited. No wife. Tried all manner of communication channels to find her. No luck. An hour late, she turned up, all apologetic. She had been involved in one of her high powered meetings and couldn’t get away. Naturally I forgave her. We went to lunch.

It’s sometimes tough when you’re married to such a high powered wife. There’s all these irritating people who want to make deals with her. They steal my time! Still, this one was very successful and she managed to convince them she was right (she does this SO well).

We had lunch in a little cafe near Embankment then had a lovely stroll up to Holborn (she had another post-lunch meeting which, at it’s end, she still didn’t know what it was about). It was such a lovely day in London – no sign of rioters anywhere. A lovely day for a wander.

Of course, I’d been to the flat beforehand, taking over Mirinda’s stuff she had taken to Oz. (It’s only since reading Baum’s Oz books that I realise how magical Australia can be when the name is shortened.)

I was running late (oh, irony of ironies) so didn’t take the ferry for our lunch date, having to take the DLR then the LOOOOOONG walk underground to Monument. For a change I decided to get off at Temple and see if it is any closer. It isn’t. I’ll not be doing that again.

Still, as WS Gilbert said: “Faint heart never won fair lady!” I trudged along the pavement heading for the usual spot, outside the Savoy and opposite the statue to Sullivan (Gilbert’s chum). The one with the semi-clad lady.

On the way back from lunch, I snapped a few photographs around London. Here’s a few, just to show it isn’t all smashed up.

Corner of The Strand & Aldwych

Actually, this was my blip for today but I thought it worth repeating as it looks so peaceful.

The Thames from Waterloo Bridge

Underpass at the IMAX, Waterloo

I always find this intriguing. It’s the massive IMAX cinema on the roundabout near Waterloo and is all modern and high tech. Then, all around it are these vines seemingly growing from a jungle somewhere. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I do find it oddly imaginative.

Back at home, a sad and sorry sight was waiting in the garden. The gladdies had become saddies as their faces were facing the ground, their stalk bent over. Now, it would be very easy to blame the poodles, a squirrel or a cat but I actually think it was the wind. It was very blowy today and the stalk is quite high. Needless to say, it has been staked. The stalk, not the wind.

Gladiolus - day ten

I can’t believe I’ve been posting pictures of the gladiolus for ten straight days! Extraordinary. I’ll have to stop soon.

Oh and, to be honest, I really blame the cat.

I just had a look at my post for one year ago, which I finished with “I hope it was worth it!” in connection with our Wednesday lunch trip to Harlow for Mirinda’s interview. It certainly was worth it.

The interview, of course, went very well and Mirinda was eventually offered the job, which she took. Now she often catches the train out to Harlow without any sign of smoke or fire. And it was a year ago tomorrow. How time flies! A lot has happened in the last 12 months.

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Today, of course, being a Wednesday I went into London to have lunch with Mirinda…except she’s still in Australia so I went to the flat instead to finish off the job I started last week.

The new bookcase sits against a small piece of wall which, while being the exact size of the bookcase, has the hub plugged into it. Because the phone point is next to it, there’s not a lot of room for movement…actually there’s none…so it was a case of cutting a sizeable rectangular hole in the back of the bookcase, to accommodate the rather massive plug.

In order to cut the hole, I had to take some tools with me from home, including a cordless drill, which made my backpack rather heavy. Even so, I had to stop off and buy a few bits and pieces at Robert Dyas before reaching the flat.

Following this shopping diversion, Mirinda now has a toolbox at the flat. This will sit under the sink and, hopefully, save me having to lug stuff back and forth every time I want to make any simple adjustments. Because I have managed to accumulate doubles of virtually every tool I own, this isn’t really a problem.

I didn’t mention last week’s failed wheel experiment, simply because I thought I’d be able to fix it this week. Sadly, this was not the case and the coffee table remains motionless. It’s back to the drawing board; there’s nothing else I can do. Though, in thinking about it, I may have the answer…

Interestingly, I didn’t take a pencil with me. I’m not certain why, but I always think there’ll be a pencil somewhere. I’m having to change the way I view the world of lead and wood based drawing products. Particularly when it comes to the flat.

In a coffee cup on the dining table there are 20 pens of various ink thickness and colour. On the dining table itself, five pens lay scattered about. And that is it. No pencils, black or otherwise. I blame no-one but myself.

I used a pen, which worked almost as well, marked out the hole then drilled it out. All in all, it took about an hour, which included cleaning the carpet afterwards. Job done! I’m quite happy with the result and just hope Mirinda is as well. I’ll know soon enough…next Monday I expect.

Speaking of Mirinda…I waited around for her to ring so I could say good night then I headed back home.

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Why are the baristas in Costa at Waterloo so miserable? Ignoring the obvious fact that they work at Costa at Waterloo, I mean. Apart from their appalling coffee delivery system that, rather than speed up the process actually requires you to wait three times as long as you would in Starbucks, one big reason I don’t buy Costa coffee is because, most of the time, they are really sullen.

None of the cheery Starbucks greetings or the Nero smiles, Costa baristas are taught to be miserable. Maybe as a reflection of their clientele…I don’t know. I avoid them. Pure and simple. I’m sure it doesn’t bother them (clearly other people are more than happy with bad service and miserable faces) and it sure as hell doesn’t bother me. Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable.

Today, for instance. The guy at the Nero cart was doing something peculiar to a bit of machinery for a customer who looked like she’d already been there an hour. I waited for a bit before deciding to go elsewhere. This decision was based on my wanting to catch the next train rather than any undue impatience, I should add.

Starbucks have the raw deal at Waterloo. They are hidden downstairs and almost outside, crammed in with McDonalds. Costa, on the other hand, are slap dab in the middle of the concourse. Therefore, Sadly, Costa was my only option. And, as usual, I had to wait in line as their inefficiency dictated and the guy who served me, as well as his mate who made my coffee, were miserable as sin.

I don’t want people to think I’m just having moan (though, to be honest, I am) because I really, really want to know what kind of training (if any) Costa give their staff and why is it so different to Starbucks or Nero?

Something else, which I’ll clearly not get an answer to, is why people put up with it? I can understand if Costa is the only option but most of the time, it isn’t. If it’s the taste of the coffee then I tend to think that Nero tastes better – Costa always tastes a bit too nutty to me. Perhaps it’s just habit. Perhaps it’s just me. I’m pretty sure Mirinda would say it’s just me.

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It was a very hot 30° today with scattered clouds, threatening to become threatening clouds. The only reason I’ve written that is because tomorrow it’s supposed to be 20°. I love the English summer. Even when it’s dull, it’s not dull.

Given that we are likely to have rain and a drop in temperature, I’m not sure what that will mean for the gladiolus. I don’t think it looks weird, either!

Gladiolus - day three

BBC Breakfast was broadcast from the main Olympic site this morning. A lot of it was inside the aquatic centre, which looks wonderful. The reason? It’s exactly one year before the opening ceremony in 2012.

Tom Daly (Olympic diver) is going to be the first person to dive off the high board. This is such big news that the BBC will be going live so we don’t miss it.

There’s a lot of argy bargy going on about the transport links coping with the Olympics. Dedicated lanes are being disputed, there has been worries about the tube and buses coping, and so it goes. However, I maintain that it couldn’t get much worse than it already is.

This morning (before the dawn chorus) I hopped on the 05:56 train to Waterloo to get to the flat. I know I generally have a go at South West Trains but this, being the first train of the day, was an excellent trip.

A highpoint was the fact that the guard doesn’t constantly rattle on with over-loud announcements about short platforms, his/her location and what to do if confronted by a turnip. In fact, when he came through the train to check tickets, he entered our carriage and almost whispered “Good morning, folks” and then inspected the proffered tickets. Given that the majority of passengers were asleep, this was amazingly considerate.

Even more incredible is the amount of sad faced, sleepy businessmen that catch this early train. One expects tradesmen and railway workers but, as Mirinda says, clearly there’s a lot of people paying private school fees, forced to work very long hours to make ends meet!

At Waterloo I went down to the Jubilee line and ran head long into a giant queue. Apparently engineering work ran over time and there were delays. I wonder how this will be avoided during the Olympics? I ask this because the Jubilee line goes to Stratford, where Olympic Park lives.

After a wait of about 10 minutes, a crowded train pulled in and the queue moved forward as people squeezed onto the train. Then the doors closed and it pulled out of the station. I was still in the queue, surrounded by annoying people with their noisy earplugs, playing a ghastly variety of tinny music.

I managed to squeeze into the next train, one minute later. And I arrived at the flat at 7:30, hoping that Parcelforce hadn’t tried to deliver in the previous half hour. I had no way of knowing whether they had so was just hopeful.

My first job was to fix wheels to the coffee table. This took about five minutes, although it’s not quite finished as I need to buy some filler. I’ll finish this off next week.

My second job was to clean the windows. Having a balcony makes it easy enough for the sliding glass door in the lounge but the bedroom is another matter. Mirinda assured me the window would spin around, top to bottom. It took me a while to work out how to do it but once I did, it just turned completely. Amazing technology, though I did feel a bit wary about the window just falling out of the frame.

In all, cleaning the windows took about half an hour. There was no third job so I just watched rubbish TV, wrote my blog, played around with my new camera and waited for the delivery.

I think I’ve said before that Mirinda keeps her Phoenix hat on top of the TV and it makes everyone look like they’re wearing it. Well here’s Claire Balding wearing it:

Claire Balding at the new Olympic Aquatic Centre wearing Mirinda's cowboy hat

I have to say there’s some rubbish on TV during the day. I was lucky that the parcel arrived at 2:30pm.

Half an hour later I was out of the flat and on my way home. An hour later I was standing on Waterloo concourse, bemoaning the fact that I’d missed the 3:30 by mere seconds. I may have made it if I’d not stopped off to get a photograph of the latest tall ship docked near the Turkish restaurant.

The Tenacious docked at Canary Wharf

I also stopped briefly at the entrance to the Jubilee line because I liked the slope of the roof and, because I had my camera with me, it seemed silly not to snap away like a demented tourist. To be fair, I wasn’t the only one.

The very modern entrance to the Jubilee Line at Canary Wharf

At Waterloo, I bought a coffee and watched, amazed as a girl walked around in Goth boots that looked like they came straight off Dr Frankenstein’s monster’s feet. They were obviously rubber and had huge holes bored through them in order to make them usable. Or perhaps to act as permanent overflow outlets for when the wearer walks through rivers.

Finally the train arrived and, accompanied by many hundreds of others (including a woman in a Chihuahua print dress pushing a baby stroller with an actual Chihuahua in it) I boarded it eagerly. I was starting to flake a bit but managed to type up this post. I then flaked for the rest of the journey…until a woman hit me with her bag when she left the train at Aldershot. It was probably a good thing or I may have ended up back at Waterloo.

Apparently, St Peter’s Church is the only floating church in London (perhaps the UK). It’s a barge which was sailed over from the Netherlands after a refit in 2003. It sits in the water in front of the Museum of London Docklands, the other side of Canary Wharf. By ‘the other side’ I mean if you drew a line with the centre at Canary Wharf DLR station, the flat is one way and this church the other. They claim it’s in the heart of Canary Wharf but I’m not sure I agree with the general location of the heart if this is truly the case.

Anyway, it’s quite unusual and I hoped it would be quite pretty. Actually, it just looks like a barge. I wanted to get a really good photo of it to blip but some Christian had parked his car right in front of it on the dock, making it impossible to get a decent shot. Pity as it was such a lovely morning for it. So, sadly, this will have to do.

St Peter's, the Floating Church, Canary Wharf

There’s a little more history of it here. More impressive is the Museum of London Docklands right opposite it which Mirinda and I are going to visit when we stay in town for our London holiday.

Also in front of the museum is a statue of this chap:

Robert Milligan

His name was Robert Milligan and he was a merchant and was one of those responsible for the building of the West India Docks in 1802, so that lots of sugar, rum and coffee could safely arrive from the Caribbean. Apparently he was an amazing man but it seems he may have turned a blind eye to all the slavery that was going at the time. He also little cared for the dockers who worked for him. When the area was gentrified, there was some who called for his statue to be removed but it remains.

Of course, I’m not usually in Canary Wharf on a Monday but I was meeting BT at the flat again to get the Internet sorted. They said the engineer would be there between 1 – 6pm so, effectively, I spent the day up there. After a jolly fun wander around in the blue sky sunshine, I did Mirinda’s grocery shopping then went to the flat for the big sit-in.

The engineer turned up at 5:20pm. While I waited, I vac’d, attached Mirinda’s new electric blanket, had a good sweep and watched Prince Caspian which I forgotten and thoroughly enjoyed for the second time.

The engineer was a very pleasant chap, as my experience of BT engineers has proven time and time again, and came equipped with a load of impressive computer equipment. He tested and checked, stripped and rewired and, eventually, said the problem was probably at the exchange and would go off and check that instead. He left at about 6 and I wasn’t far behind him.

I was amazed at how crowded Canary Wharf Jubilee Line tube station is at this time of night. Extraordinarily thick queues waiting on the platform. people don’t even walk down the escalator. It was like being lowered into the depths of hell. I figured I was in for a long wait. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A train was filling up as I made my way down and by the time I was at the doors, another train pulled in and I hopped straight on. granted it was very crowded (mostly with French business people) but the trip took the usual 20 minutes and I was onto the 6:30 train home at Waterloo. Again, this was very crowded but at least I had a seat.

I then received a call from BT to say that the engineer had finished and asking me if it was working. I told the operator (clearly another Indian) that I wasn’t there but would check later. She is ringing me again tomorrow to check. Then, a few hours later, the engineer called me (see, I said he was a nice chap) to say he’d checked the exchange but it needed a part replacing, which would happen tomorrow. You wonder sometimes why these people don’t communicate properly.

So, the up-shot is, it should be fixed for tomorrow. My fingers are firmly crossed. I have a busy week and do not want another day at the flat!

Yes, we completed today. The Canary Wharf flat is now ours. Well, the bank’s really but you know what I mean. We were originally going to move Mirinda in on Wednesday but it was all too exciting and we couldn’t wait, so we’re doing it tomorrow (Saturday). Yay!

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I had a great time researching today at the Science Museum. I am constantly amazed by the number of incredibly obscure people there are. I shouldn’t be really, because there has been an awful lot of people on the planet at one time or another and they can’t all be well known. However, it amazes me that there are people who do one thing, are lionised for it then slip back into obscurity. One such chap was Samuel Crompton.

In 1779, Samuel invented the Spinning Mule. No, I’d never heard of it either but, apparently, it was really, really important during the Industrial Revolution. Crompton was a one-invention type of guy but this one invention revolutionised mechanised weaving. Trouble was, poor old Crompton was a lousy businessman.

The reason he created the Mule was in order for his business to spin muslin. It was very successful. So much so that other factories would send spies to try and work out how he did it. It drove him to distraction to the point where he was determined to either destroy it or go public with it. Sadly, he could not afford the £100 to take out a patent and, while factory owners said they’d give him a bit of dosh for it, once the machine was up and running, they sort of forgot. He only managed to get around £60 for it.

He went back to spinning and, somehow, managed to get a bunch of people to pay him £500 in 1800. but then a massive blow. Another inventor, Edmund Cartwright invented the power loom and parliament gave him a grant of £10,000! Poor Samuel was a bit miffed (he was from ‘oop north’ so he probably said something a little earthier than ‘miffed’) and set about trying to claim a grant for his Mule.

He set off on a tour of the north to collect evidence of how much his Mule was being used. When it came time to present the evidence he stuffed it up a bit and, after a long wait, he eventually received £5,000. Joyously he set up a bleaching business…which failed. Unknown to Samuel, his friends clubbed together and gave him an annuity of £65.

Interestingly, while it’s very easy to feel sorry for poor old Samuel, when he needed the £100 for the patent, he gave £100 to his church, which is somewhat short sighted. While one can laud his ill-judged philanthropic gesture, it could have been a lot bigger had he taken out a patent instead.

He eventually died in 1827, sad and miserable…actually I have no idea if he died sad and miserable but I thought it an appropriate image to end on.

So we put an offer on the flat we saw last weekend. Actually we put an offer forward then quickly amended it when told that there was another interested party. We waited. And waited. Then we went to bed. Then we woke up. I went shopping and Mirinda had a sleep in. Eventually I made it home and Mirinda woke up. And a little while after this, the phone rang. Our offer had been accepted.

And then it all went a bit mad. Lots of information had be found and circulated. Mirinda had to prepare the ground for the mortgage document which I then completed with the help of the very helpful Amar – we spent quite a long time on the phone. I then worked well into the night in order to scan the documents she needed and sent them off.

And so, it’s all happening agan. We have bought a flat in London. We have applied for yet another mortgage. I have to fill out yet more forms. It’s REALLY exciting though!

100 POSTS! I can’t believe it! I have managed to write almost every day since I started and now I’ve reached 100 posts. I was going to buy three birthday candles. A 1, and two 0s. I was going to put them on a small cupcake. I was going to post the picture here. I couldn’t find any in Farnham. So, I guess, apart from a fishmongers, there isn’t a candle seller here either. Anyway, Happy Anniversary to me!

And, to celebrate, today I went to Canary Wharf with Mirinda to check out her final list of flats. As usual, I waited for her to view about 450 of them then let her cross off all but four. She then set up appointments for us to view them today. I was much more excited about seeing Canary Wharf.

So, up at 6 and out of the house by 7:30, on the 8am train from Farnham. The plan was to meet at 9:30 by the statue of the guy on the horse (near Bank Station) which should have been very easy. The Waterloo & City line leaves from Waterloo and goes one stop, to Bank. Sadly, it wasn’t running because of stupid engineering work (I find very interesting that they call it ‘engineering work’. Does that mean a whole bunch of engineers are down there, checking it out, building bridges, checking stresses? Or does it REALLY mean, maintenance work but they like to make it sound more important?) so I was forced to take the Northern Line to Tottenham Court Road and change for the District Line. Not that it made any difference. I arrived at 9:30 and still beat Mirinda who had to walk down the road from the flat.

And so to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway). It takes about 3 days to find the platform then the actual trip to Canary Wharf takes about 10 minutes. I’m pretty sure we walked most of the way, just underground. So down about 2 miles, following arrows down long staircases. The train, on the other hand, rises almost vertical in the shaft until the day suddenly appears.

The rest of the trip is a bit like a very slow roller coaster. The carriages are quite comfortable though a bit wobbly. Very pleasant, however, is the fact that it’s all above ground.

Canary Wharf Station is amazing. It’s an entire world of shops underground. Like Logan’s Run except with all age groups. And there is everything there. From here, we took a side entrance and returned to the real world, where we traipsed all around Canary Wharf, admiring the wonderfully modern buildings, boats called Josephine and multi-universe traffic lights.

Canary Wharf

We wandered around a lot more before sauntering into Carluccio’s. Unfortunately. We were ignored. And then they managed to bring us the wrong coffees. We were in there for ages. The staff eventually realised they weren’t serving us and tried to make up for it by offering me more pepper. Twice they offered me more pepper. It made little difference. Actually, to be honest, it made NO difference. I didn’t tip them. Which is a bit mean. After all, I could written something like “My tip: Do not ignore your customers.”

Not that we were rushed for time. Mirinda managed to book the viewings with about three hours between each one. Anyway, we met the realo and visited the first flat. I didn’t need to see any more. It is perfect. Nice and spacious, light, wonderful kitchen. It was previously a rental to corporate clients so it is furnished. The furnishings are included. Which is perfect.

But, of course, we HAD to see the other properties as well. Having a few hours to spare, we decided to catch the Thames Clipper over to Greenwich. Good God! It was packed. And most of them (Spanish, I think) knew each other. For some reason, they were very keen on taking photographs of one of their friends because he kept falling asleep. I am not sure what that’s about.

Greenwich was amazingly crowded. We wandered a bit and then, suddenly, Mirinda grabs then drags me into San Miguel, a Spanish tapas restaurant. Fantastic place. Lovely food, great service, nice owner. A LOT better than Carluccio’s. I totally recommend it.

San Miguel, home of excellent tapas in Greenwich

After lunch we wandered around the (no longer) Royal Naval College. An amazing place. So amazing it has it’s own monogrammed rubbish bins. Now that’s important.

Monogrammed rubbish bin, Greenwich

We decided we had to come back to Greenwich but for today our visit was limited and we boarded the Thames Clipper back across the river to Burrell’s Wharf.

Here I was dragged around three flats, all the time thinking we’d already seen the perfect flat. The realo had the weirdest boots. They had a huge bit missing on the ankle of each, exposing her flesh to the elements. It was most peculiar. And her skirt (while I’m busy assassinating her character) looked very similar to a Victorian gas light cover only not made of glass. She also wore far too much make up.

Anyway, we thanked her and boarded the next ferry to Waterloo. Mirinda asked what I thought and I repeated (for the millionth time) that the first flat had been perfect and I wasn’t sure why we hung around for the others. It turned out that she felt the same.

Come Monday morning, Mirinda will make an offer on the flat. Let’s hope we get it.